The end of the line?

All summer we sat around complaining of the heat, sleeping in, staying up late, slacking off, eating crap.... sweet sweet summertime... and then 2 weeks into school for the bigger boys and BAM... the cold germs were all, hey there! How ya been?? Let me just climb up in ya body and cozy up with your respiratory system. So comfy in there. WTH?! Every. year. Yuck. Always awesome when I'm sick too, because I don't get a break... just like every other mother on the face of this earth. Except like rich moms, with nannies and shit. They're all here take my kid whether they feel good or not. Oh and sea turtle moms... don't they like lay their eggs on the beach and walk off? You're on your own bitches, better learn how to feed yourself real fast!

I realize I've started another random blog post here folks... bear with me... I'm trying to reign it all into focus a bit because there is something I do wanna talk about here. (Obviously, right?) You all know a bit about me through random postings and bios and whatever. Some folks actually know me. Mostly I try to maintain a bit of anonymity though. Past experience has taught me that this is the best way to avoid drama in ones life, mostly because certain douchy people like to be judgmental, gossipy pains in the ass. If you want to be judgmental, please exit stage left or right. I really don't care. Just go. Now. Thanks. Reason being, I'm about to lay out some of my personal business here, and I don't need crap.

I may be a wee bit paranoid.
... and a lot bit depressed.
.... and insane amounts of anxious.

I've touched on this a bit before. Glazed over it. Covered it with laughter and wrapped it in sarcasm. It  is what I do. Like icing on a jacked up cake. I'm not sure when I actually put a name to what I've dealt with for so long. I'm certain it was long before the loss of my first set of twins, and the marriage counseling, and the therapy, the pills, the affairs, and the imminent destruction of my first marriage. I think I knew back in high school that my bad days were more than just raging or waning teenage hormones. I know now that genetics had a lot to do with it, and that my fully functional dysfunctional 'normal' family had a hand in it too. Depression is a nasty bitch that hangs around and thrives on anxiety. Even now, even medicated, it's lurking in my life. And now, based on insane amounts of research Sgt. Dad has done for me, it appears that these pills that I am on may be worse than the beast itself. So now what? I can't drop them cold turkey, I've been on them too long. The effects will apparently be debilitating regardless, and I intend to wait until Sgt. Dad comes home before I set anything into motion. The doctors just want to swap one pill for another. Sgt. Dad is looking at herbal remedies. I just want to refill my wine glass and sleep it off. Unfortunately, I'm a wife, and a mother, and right now I am the only one taking care of this house- sad state that it's in by the way... so that is not an option.

Not sure why I'm sharing this. Perhaps I have been inspired by others around me. Doesn't really matter why. I blog, therefore I share. And let me share this gem while I'm at it- Cymbalta is evil. Try not to get hooked on it. Seriously. No joke here. I'm beginning to deal with cognitive impairment, memory loss, and this awesome little thing people have termed brain zaps, or brain shivers where I feel completely disoriented for a hot minute. Not to be confused with hot flashes, because apparently I'm having those too. Perhaps coping with the beastly depression would have been better than coping with this....

So, while Martha Stewart clearly does not live in my house, it is becoming evident that I am not quite all here either....
It's my hope that I can continue to blog while attempting to ween myself off these unsuspecting brain leech pills... it makes for good self-therapy. (Is there such a thing?? If not, well then, I just made that up so HA!) It's bound to make for some interesting reading, right?
Hold on folks!.... we're in for a bumpy ride!

Now your day is complete.... You're Welcome!

Picture totally unrelated...

Woooo... I am pooped. Maybe I'm just freakin lazy but after a trip to the big box warehouse store of choice, picking up the older two, no naps for the younger two, dinner, and all the tantrums in between... I. Am. Exhausted.  Perhaps if I had started earlier, but it is a well known fact that I move at the speed of snail in the morning. I should have known it was gonna be a rough day when one of the trash bags that I was hauling over to my 'Durang-don't' to take to the dump... busted and the contents spewed all over the sidewalk. This trash-taking-the-dump thing would normally be Sgt. Dad's duty. This was decided long ago. However, he's not here. And since we live out in the middle of BFE... there's no trash pick up. So there I was cleaning up week old stinky diapers covered in... ick... while the twins stood next to me and said... 'Clean it up Mommy, Cleeeeaannn ITT! It smells STINKY  Mommy!' Seriously you all? You made that shit. I cleaned that shit. It's shit. It stinks. And now I have to clean it up again. And there were.... bugs. That's all I'm saying. I wanted to vomit.

Onward and upward though. After dropping the unsavories in the nearest dumpster... 3 miles away...  we headed to the warehouse store mostly for diapers, and fruit snacks. Mini-man is addicted to gummy fruit snacks. Addicted. No Joke. This was a 20 plus minute drive. Did mention the road construction? And the asshats that can't seem to comprehend the whole sort of jersey wall/ pylon thing going on because of the construction. I wanted to roll down the window and be like hey asshat! I have a lane, you have a lane, you don't have your lane and half of mine fucktard. Did I mention that as I was pulling out of my driveway some old guy on a yellow moped drove past me? I guess I didn't. He yelled something at me. It was creepy. And also funny. Mostly funny. Did I also mention that every dang time we get in the truck the twins have to find freakin rocks in the driveway to take with them. WTF is that? Annoying. Seriously. Do you have any clue how much gravel is rolling around in my truck??

The parking lot of the warehouse store was quite entertaining. I think the seniors citizens must have gotten their checks today. I saw one woman... and I kid you not... I actually said out loud to myself... OMG... it's Carrot Top's mother! (Old Carrot Top- Not creepy steroid Carrot Top.)------> That shit is Scary...
I then realized my window was open. HA! Dang though, someone should tell that poor old woman that hair should just not be that shade of orange. Oh oh... and there was the old dude with a Santa Beard. Baby-Lady quickly piped up and exclaimed.. LOOK Mommy- It's Santa Cwaws! She did that. No lie. The trip was, for the most part, uneventful, minus the old folks. I did end up with cake. Delicious cake. Oh my. It was so tasty. Like I need cake. Soooo tasty. Oh, and 3 bottles of wine. Which the girl at the check-out rang up, put in my cart, and looked at me with raised eyebrows. Bite me. I'm not a drunk. Well, not in the light of day anyway. I may need to adjust my coping skills, but whatev. Not like I'm going to drink them all at once. That should last me at least like 5 days.... maybe.

Oh, and a random thought. I think I have cradle-cap. WTH?! Not dandruff. My x had dandruff... til he shaved his balding head. I know what it looks like. What the what? I wash my hair. WTH is this scaling orange scabby crap on my scalp? According to some random website reading it can be brought on by hormonal changes and some kind of fungus. I'm sure your day is complete knowing this. Hey, at least it's not head lice... Was down that road with the older two twice last year... both times after visiting their cousins with their dad. Not saying anything. Just sayin'.

Also, I would like to apologize... this blog has no point. I just hadn't written for a while and the word diarrhea had to get out. Thanks for stopping by and sharing my crazy with me... Cheers!

Face-time vs. Face-time with sticky toddler kissies....

Every mother's dilemma.... to work or not to work. When my boys were little, and I mean, really little, I was home with them, and my x in his infinite wisdom thought I should babysit other small children to supplement our sad income. Confession: I did not enjoy this. I especially did not like cleaning other kids poop. My own kids- fine- no problem. Other people's kids- GROSS.
 That is how I feel about that. No I don't want to change your kids diaper. Maybe this is why I feel guilty about leaving my kids in other folks care. Back to the story though...

When the x and I entered splitsville it became necessary for me to go back to work, because, well basically he cut me off, and in hindsight I don't blame him. I didn't want to go, but childcare was obtained and a job was found and off I went. It was probably the best thing to ever happen to me. I met amazing people who are now some of my best friends. I felt useful and intelligent and productive. I kicked butt at what I did and felt almost irreplaceable.... and then... poof... the doctor says you're having twins. Well damn. Childcare is insanely expensive, as it should be I suppose, now that I am looking at it through the eyes of a SAHM. The ratio of the cost of childcare vs. my salary did not compute. As a matter fact it would have sent us almost into the negative. There was no point. So, I sadly resigned my position with the most amazing supervisor that anyone could ever have and turned in my keys (and kept my badge cuz it was the best picture of me ever) and walked away when the twins were born. I was replaced. Life moved on. 

I have spent the last two plus years loving and kissing and hugging on my lovelies. I am hardly away from them. Every moment they are awake, I am the one caring for them. I am the one controlling their environment, what they eat, what they see, how they are cared for. I am also the only one changing diapers, disciplining, kissing booboos, cleaning up the spills, the messes, the crayon on the floor, dealing with the tantrums and the sibling tiffs. I'm feeling a little... road rashed.

I suppose at this point, you're wondering what the point is here besides just random rambling. I got a phone call this morning. There's a position available with the agency I used to work for. Same type of position I had, same pay, different department, different supervisor. My name is apparently being bandied about. It is suggested I send in an application.

Immediately I thought... oh, no way. If I can't have my old position back with my old awesome boss then no. And then I drank more coffee, and I started to over-analyze, and I started to get anxious, and obsess. It's not like I spent years getting an education for some high-paying power type job. This is admin stuff. I like it, I don't love it, and I'm certainly not certain I would like this particular position in this particular dept. There would definitely be more face time and less hiding away in my own office with the door shut. We all know I'm not a people person, right? It's a Monday thru Friday gig with holidays off, sick time, vacation time, and even health insurance. These are all good things.

Let's talk dollar signs. Sgt Dad is still away and will be for a few more months, and when he comes back there is no guaranteed employment for him besides his weekend commitments to Uncle Sam which pay for crap btw, in case you were wondering about that. So not worth the headaches that Uncle Sam's self-importance brings. And we've already concluded that this potential admin job pays for crap. So is it worth it?

And now let's talk about change. Change is scary, insanely scary to me. Change my routine, change my schedule. Hell, having a schedule. All frightening. Like nail-biting, anxiety-attack inducing scary. Don't raise your eyebrow at me. That is how it feels... to me.

Then there's all the crap I do at home already... subtract the amount of time I have to do it,  add in a 40 hour work week, and subtract the husband who isn't here.... well basically... I just don't know if I'm capable of it all and yes, before you accuse me of being lazy, I openly admit... no, no, no... I openly flaunt the fact that I am indeed lazy. I mean, after all, Martha Stewart doesn't live here, right? And neither does June Cleaver for that matter. I'm more of a Frankie Heck....

'The Middle's' Frankie Heck...

.... Although she does have a job and she even tries to join the PTA and stuff... which I won't. Don't ask me to sign up for your Fall Festival stuff... not doing it... even if I am a SAHM.

All of this leaves me right back where I was... I want to work, and I want stay home and I can't freakin decide and now I feel like this is the only opportunity I might get without serious pavement pounding because I lack a serious formal education and a fancy degree. What's a middle-aged broad like me supposed to do.....

I didn't even discuss feelings of inadequacy as a mom... or inadequacy as a productive member of society...

In cases of extreme indecision such as this...

Wine is the only viable option... at least for tonight.....

Helicopters, HoppaChoppas, and Potty Training, Oh MY!!

Morning peeps and freaks! A beautiful Friday morn here in the country. Had to wake the Diva-Princess up this morning, and she was none to pleased about that, but dang it was 9:30 and seriously girly get up. She's making us pay for my insolence now though. She is perfecting her stink eye, I can feel it burning into the side of my face. Should make for an awesome day. Mini-man, who has informed me that he is 'just a guy' is tearing his coloring book into tiny pieces and then dropping said pieces onto the floor and yelling 'looooook! hopperchopppper!!'
Get to da Choppa!!!
Couldn't help it. The coffee is quite tasty this morning. The cream of wheat was hot. Too hot according to the Diva-Princess. She was very angry about that. But then consider her mood. I do enjoy the occasional bowl of cream of wheat, but it must be brown sugar with maple syrup in it. delish. Peanut butter and bacon sammies are also tasty. Don't hate. They are nom. It's bacon people, how can you go wrong with bacon? Don't turn your nose up at me. It is truly amazing. For reals.

Moving on. So here's what's up. These tiny people are just a few short months away from turning 3 and I'm quite... well... stuck. The subject is, potty training.... and we'll get back to that in a bit.... because my mother came over and I had to pretend to be Martha Stewart for like the entire afternoon. Ok. Not Martha Stewart, but I had to make food, and clean and do mommy things and look like I don't spend my entire day on this computer. Which I don't. Not the entire day anyway.
So now it's late and the day is done, and I remember... I never finished writing this. The wine is flowing freely now and I am still pondering potty training. I don't remember this crap being so hard with the older boys, but then life was different. Divorce, and work, and babysitters, and perhaps I really wasn't the one that actually potty trained them, the sitters were.... and dang they didn't get paid enough for this shit. I want to poke myself in the eye. So we buy the 'potty dance pants'... commonly referred to as pullups and I'm thinking yea, they will be uber excited to wear these and have Disney characters on their little dupas. I even bought regular under-guchies thinking the same thing. Fail. 'I don't want to wear the potty dance pants Mommy.' Any clue how hard it is to put an item of clothing on a child when said child does not want to wear it? So I was like... okkkkayyyy. How about naked time? They can run around naked and they'll be like hey I don't want to pee/ crap on the floor, let me do this in the potty. Fail. Mini-man was horrified. He screamed like I dipped him in acid. And now he tells me things like, 'put on my diaper Mommy, I don't want to pee on the floor/ on your bed/ on the porch/ in the yard.' To which I respond, ok then pee in the potty. At which point he tells me--- 'NO, I CAN'T!!!' The Diva-Princess pretty much responds the same way only a bit less vehemently. I stupidly attempted to reason with these midgets about why they feel they can't. I mean they follow me to the toilet every time I go so they fully aware of what is supposed to happen. Mini-man tells me basically 'I don't wanna put my butt on the toilet'. Diva-princess responds with squeals, looks adorable, and then changes the subject.

I lost patience today and walked away only to have Mini shut himself in the pantry and proceed to crap himself after which he opened the door and announced to all and sundry- 'I made a stinky poop! Change my diaper Mommy! Change It!!!' This happened today. Grandma thought it was hysterical. Me- not so much. He knows what he's doing. He knows where he supposed to do it. He. Just. Won't. Stubborn little turd.
I'm not looking for advice folks. Just venting. It's a long and frustrating road to under-guchie land, and there are so many obstacles along the way. Mostly my lack of patience and a serious feeling of inadequacy as a parent though. Those are the biggest hurdles. As long as they can wipe their butts by kindergarten I figure I'm good, so that gives me a bit more time.
Get to da chopppa! The diaper's about to BLOW!

I got you babe!

Over the past week, I've written at least 3 blogs that I am reluctant to post for all the world to see. Negativity doesn't even begin to describe them. They were straight up dark and verbose and full of deep musings, and quite frankly, they were depressing. Let me sum it all up here and now with this... I am fairly certain I am stuck in my own quirky version of 'Groundhog Day'. Instead of Sonny & Cher I get, 'Mommy, I want Breakfast'. Same coffee cup. Same ponytail. Same argument with 2 year olds about  how they won't fall into the toilet. Same fight between the older two boys. Same Same Same. Oh, and Ca-Chow! Because it's on everyday in this house. Ca-freakin-Chow!

Fuck! I think I might have a case of tourettes myself. Basically I am stuck in this time loop of epic proportions and instead being all like... ohh let me change it up cuz I'm brave and daring... I'm all like... well this blows and please pity me I'm too f-in lazy and unmotivated to do anything about it. And why is that? The definition of insanity right? Do the same thing all the time and expect different results right. I suppose I am indeed a bit insane then. Insane in the membrane. I just hide it better than others. I keep it on the inside. It keeps me warm at night. Hahaha. Ok. I'm not insane. Just depressed, reclusive, anxious, angsty, and lonely. Do these things make me a bad mom? Lord, I hope not. I mean, they're clean and fed and breathing so I would think I'm doing ok. I fear judgement and I fearing losing control. So I stay where it is safe. Home. That is depressing. Like a vicious circle. Anyway... this is getting depressing. I have issues. Sometimes they spill out in word vomit while I blog. And then I cover it up with humor, because I choose not to deal directly with them. My dog just sighed at me like he knew what I wrote. Wtfreak dude. Go back to sleep like a good smelly hound dog. There. Can a person resent them self? I'm sure I do. I need a new perspective I spose. But damn that's hard to do when you're this far down the rabbit hole.

I do realize there are good things in my life. This does not escape me. The kids are healthy. I am healthy-ish. We have a roof over our heads, food on the table, the truck runs, the appliances run, the bills are paid, the well has water, hell, we even have indoor plumbing. These are all good things. We wake up to a new day every morning and that is a good thing. I get it. I get that I am supposed to enjoy every minute of my kids because this time goes really fast. However the constant temper-tantrums from 2 year olds times 2... well they can make a day seem like it is moving like Methuselah. Like right now, I am desperate for nap time because the little miss and her evil twin have been at it all morning. Toddler logic running rampant. Everything is mine! No guys, everything is mine, and I will take it all away! And then he actually attempted to use manners and ask nicely for something and she responded with... too bad. And then I laughed. And then it was followed with hair pulling and screaming, which is when shit ceased to be funny, and I stopped laughing. And why is Mr. Noodle so damn stupid? Srsly?! Get a clue you moron!

My depression tends to rage when Sgt. Dad is gone. He's been gone a lot since we got married. Our anniversary is coming up, and once again... he won't be here. I think all told, out of 8 years together, he's been home maybe 4. Makes life hard when you are always separated from the one you love. And I do love him, hard. I am very lucky that this man is a part of my life. He is unbelievably patient and understanding and he has never made me feel badly about my depression. He accepts it, and me for what it is and who I am. I do still harbor some anger over this current separation, because this go round was definitely his choice. I'm angry that he felt like this was the only job opportunity available to him. The anger doesn't help because I can't direct it at him, I can't direct it at anyone. It's just there. Looming and festering and magnifying the ever present depression I already have.

But I do have wine.

3 Bottles of this delicious wine in my pantry. It is by far my absolute fave. None of that dry warm crap for me. Give me this fantastic, sweet, cold, thirst-quenching moscato. Yum! Get you some! You will not be sorry! I will be having a cup or 2 tonight. Yes indeed. A large plastic cup. Not that tiny little wine glass. I prefer something more bucket-ish.
Be good folks! It's time for some mmmmlunch, and more coffee, at least until wine time, oh and I think someone pooped... he was hiding in the hallway saying.. I'm not pooping... always a sure sign that he has... craptastic! 

Miscellaneous Doo-Dads and Such...

I've been trying to blog for several days... but unfortunately each blog train would derail. I am lacking the ability to stay on topic. At the same time I need to blog... call it blog back-up if you will. So in light of this... here's what I've come up with.... if you continue to read you shall be deluged with random crap  including but not limited to, the weather, cats, chick-fil-a, bearded goats and free-range pigs, the ass-farm next door, and God knows what else.

I took the kids to Chick-Fil-a tonight and it was delicious. Haters gonna hate and owners gonna make- money that is. The sammich was nom the fries were good. The service was good. I did not go to make a statement, I went because it was delicious. And that is that. Politics and crap like that can kiss my proverbial ass. I have always felt apathetic towards politics and politicians and the like. Too many two-faced, closed-minded, back-stabbing people who seem to need hyphenated adjectives to describe them all rolled in to the mix. Even with my husband in and out of the military... still I am apathetic. Basically they all piss me off and this year I find myself less apathetic and more... generally pissed off. Wait, that was sort of redundant. Whatever. At least I admit my redundancy.
Whatever... moving on... while on our way out to the infamous chicken place we drove past our 'neighbor's' house. I use the term neighbor loosely. We live in the country... neighbors are few and far between although I do live next to the ass-farm- hey perhaps they breed politicians there... just a thought. No, no politicians, just donkeys and cows and that damn rooster that thinks it's cool to cock his doodle do at 2 in the morning. wtfreak. Anyway- Where was I? Oh yea... so we were driving down our little podunk country road and I had to slow down because... wth is in the 'rednecks' front yard?? I suppose I should preface this. See- their yard is dotted with crap, random sheds and outbuildings, a dude living in a travel trailer in their side yard, tires, furniture, buckets, boxes, ... well really the list is endless. And don't get me started on their immediate next door neighbor. We've concluded that this woman is attempting to talk to aliens by placing random crap in her yard and changing her display every few days... damn. I wasn't gonna go there... but there it was. Back to the rednecks though. A few months back we noticed the free-range chickens clucking through the yard. And a little while after that the pigs showed up. The pigs where in a pen... with a sign out front that read... pigs for sale. Ok. Cool. I like bacon. Whatever. This place is not a farm... it is a house with maybe a half an acre attached to it. But here's these pigs for sale. Cool. And then one day the pigs where chillin in the front yard next to the 35 mph speed limit sign chewing on the grass and being all like snort and stuff. okayyyy. We've moved from free-range chickens, to free-range hogs, and then tonight. Well tonight I hit the brakes, because what I saw warranted a look-see. A bearded goat with horns.

kinda like this with less water and more mange

There he was, chewing on some grass right next to the road, and I was like what the hell? What the what? Like, couldn't he just walk off and head butt something or someone? Couldn't he get the crazy neighbor's plastic helicopter that she duct-taped to the fence post stuck in his horns. Yea... she did that. A repeat for her really. I liked the rotary phone duct-taped to the hood of her truck soo much better. And yes, it's her. We've seen her out there doing it. Anyway- highlight of my day right there. You take what you can get when your social life has been reduced to visits with your x and his wife while swapping kids.
But this is really my own fault... and I know this. I ooze awkwardness. The other day I posted a lil blurb about Annie Walker from 'Bridesmaids'on my fb page. I do so love her and that movie, because I really felt like- oh my gosh- it's me. Even though Kristen Wigg is much younger and skinnier than me, and the character obviously was not married and didn't have kids. But the awkwardness- the basis of her personality. The whole like- wth am I doing? Lord, I am such a dork. Social gatherings lead me to think a lot of crap to myself like that- like why the hell did I say (fill in the blank)? and why the hell I am wearing these jeans because my muffin-top is hanging out and everyone else's boobs look better than mine, and wow, I'll bet she spends hours on her hair cuz it looks so nice. I feel like a boob. Why am I the tallest person here? Do I have food in my teeth? Did I just drop the f-bomb inappropriately? omgosh... did anyone just see me trip over my own feet? gahh... my palms are sweating. Why must they sweat? Why is that person looking at me like that? Stop judging me okay?... because I am way too busy judging myself.
And speaking of judging... I want to bitch about cat people. I'm not setting out to offend, and if you're a cat person you may want to stop reading here and now. But dammit man. I have a cat. She goes outside and comes in at her leisure. She eats mice and voles and moles and rips the legs off lizards and maims snakes. That's alright. If she drops dead tomorrow, I will find another cat on craigslist or on the side of the road or whatever. Sure we'll miss her, but ya know, they're kind of a dime a dozen. They multiply faster than rabbits. I just read a post on fb today... something to the effect (or affect- I never get that right) of please donate money to me to help pay for my 16 year old cats vet bills. Hello, what? The damn thing is 16, why in the name of Sylvester and Tweety are you going into debt for it? Put it to sleep. Put it out of it's misery. I'm sorry, I really don't understand this. A dog, maybe. But a cat?? Would you also like bereavement leave from work when it does finally kick the bucket. Because it will, you are just prolonging the inevitable. I just wanted to get that off my chest. Didn't make my chest much lighter. Damn boobs.
My wine cup is empty... moving on... Cheers!

Some shtick or some Shtick... or some blog about blogging....

Story of my life....

It is about time for something funny, yes? The big girl panties are firmly in place, and my boot straps have been yanked... theoretically anyway. I can't wait for fall and the actual wearing of boots. Then I can quit painting my toenails (and shaving my legs ha). I am really trying to have a good day. I am playing happy music and trying to get some stuff done around here and making lists for this weekend's tax-free school shopping adventure. That should be fun. Or not. Probably not, but I can try to be positive, for once. It won't kill me, I hope.

So let's talk about 'Shtick'.


No, not that kind of shtick.



Shtick, shtick. More like this:

Some Benny Hill

or some Mr. Bean....

Or even this....

Or how bout this?

Less stick-ish and more Mr. Bean like. More gimmicky less woodsy. You get the point. The blogosphere is full of shtick. I read a lot of blogs with shtick. I enjoy it. And I wonder if I should employ it. But then, that's kinda not my style. I'm not spilling my guts into this computer for world-wide fame and fortune. I'm not looking for ad deals. I did make a facebook page... I'm not entirely sure why I did that. But I did. There are only a handful of folks actually reading my rants. So I don't think I shall bother with shtick. I can't draw my own pics anyway, and I'm not madly in love with a movie star... although I might be in love with John Mayer, but my husband is aware of this and he's okay with it. Besides, shtick seems to require a long-term commitment and some consistency and I frankly I don't have time for either. Some days I'm up and humorous, and some days I think the world sucks and my glass is completely empty (screw the half-empty bit). Some days I will complain about my kids and some days I will not. This is my life in an online diary, and I am choosing to share it because... because why? I guess that's the real point here. Why am I writing a blog and wanting other people to read it? People that I do not know and will never meet. I thought about this for a while and I have come to this conclusion. I'm not a people person. I'm socially awkward and incredibly neurotic and I don't get out much. And I'm lonely. If I can tap out my thoughts into this blog and someone reads them and they're all- hey I know how you feel- and they tell me- heyyy I know how you feel- then I've made some kind of connection with someone else. It makes me feel a tad bit less reclusive, a little less lonely, a little more in touch with reality. And we all need a dose of reality, don't we? Some folks need a dose of reality... with a bat... to the head. Especially some of those real housewives of fancypants land. Really? They're real? I think their bodies have more plastic in them than my kids little people zoo set. That's not real. You want real? Read my blog. Because I am real, and these are my real thoughts and feelings, and I have real boobs too. Just felt like pointing that out. So, thanks for stopping by, and I shall leave you with this....

Cuz I blogged about blogging...